The True Story of Venus
by Aleksandrs
Summary: The son of two travelling Wastelanders happens upon refuge after being attacked by raiders. The true story of the star Venus.
1. The Residence of God

**Part 1 – The Residence of God**

Feluric woke, almost unable to feel the sheets through the faint burning sensation that seemed to coat his entire body, yet still exulting in the fact he was in a real bed, or at least cot, with real covers over top.

He had led his parents to the monastery as the sun sank down beyond the horizon, unsure of where he had been going ever since the raiders had dumped them in a pit in the middle of the wasteland without food or clean water. He had, at least, still been in a condition to navigate the other two members of the group, who didn't appear to be conscious, but still walked in whichever direction he happened to point them. Feluric was athletic and strong, probably the only reason his mother and father still kept him around instead of dumping him off on whichever community would take him. He was useful in this sort of situation, although he'd never actually held their lives in his hands before, which was a tempting prospect. At the moment, though, he had no real interest in doing anything other than finding shelter and resting. Occasionally he wished the raiders hadn't been short enough on ammunition to want to avoid wasting it. But Feluric and his parents did eventually come upon the Monastery, and had wandered up to the gate, completely unchallenged. A robed man found them at the gateway, and had ushered them in immediately. After that, Feluric had been led in much the same fashion he had led his parents earlier.

The monastery occupied an enviable political sweet spot. It was a religious community, not small, but not particularly large, either - small enough to be self-sufficient. "Governments" and corporations had been springing up in the area for decades, none of them lasting too long, but each giving the monastery its leeway. The governments controlled the populace by producing clean food and water, medical supplies and personnel, and ensuring safety with numbers. The Monastery, however, was self-sufficient and didn't need clean water or food from outside sources. What's more, it was responsible for something the pseudo-governments couldn't be. Many of the people in the area subscribed to the old, pre-war ways of religious belief, and the Monastery, knowing the old ways, controlled the souls of the people. It gave them guidance during these troubled and difficult times. It could issue a statement declaring the government to be a servant of the Maker, or it could turn the people into an ungovernable mass, and wrest control of the governments own soldiers away from it. Rarely was this necessary or practical, however. It was preferable for the Monastery to give the government blanket sanctuary, and receive protection from raiders and slavers in return. Generally, stability was better.

Feluric, of course, knew nothing of this at the beginning. He had simply happened upon some religious hide-away with his parents, and been lavished with radiation treatment, rest, food, and shelter. It was totally different from the other settlements he'd visited with his parents, the small, terrified communities living at the mercy of raiding bands, or perhaps a group of slavers calling themselves governors.

"This," Feluric thought, "is the strangest place I've ever been." Strong, and able to survive on its own, even to support wastelanders seeking sanctuary, and yet not willing to extort them. Days before, he wouldn't have believed such a place existed.

There was a miniscule sound as someone had placed their hand on the doorknob outside. Feluric quickly closed his eyes and relaxed his breathing. He heard steps and felt someone standing at the bedside.

"Ahhhh!" A quiet scream. Feluric's eyes snapped open. There was a girl standing at the bedside. She giggled.

Feluric emitted what could be interpreted as either a grunt or a growl, closing his eyes again.

The girl apparently took it as a grunt, because she spoke with a trace of the giggle still in her voice. "You don't have to pretend, Feluric. We aren't going to make you start working on your birthday. But, we also can't throw a party for you, so my company will have to do instead." Feluric had never had a birthday party before. He hadn't even realized what day it was. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl again.

"Sounds like a pretty shitty deal to me." He immediately felt a pang of remorse as she frowned at him.

"That's a bad thing to say."

"Sorry." He stared hard at her, as if trying to contradict himself. She looked confused for a moment, then her expression lightened. Feluric almost yelled at her when he saw the corners of her mouth turn up.

"Here," she said quickly, producing a thick book from behind her and holding it out to him, "Happy 17th birthday."

Feluric took it. It was labelled "Bible". It seemed heavy. "Is it valuable?" He asked sceptically.

"It's the only possession you'll ever need." She responded seriously. Feluric opened it to a random page, and was instantaneously bored. Too many words, he thought. He'd learned how to read, but it wasn't always a valuable skill so much as a waste of time in his eyes, and although it had helped him many times, he tolerated it only because it was easy. He didn't have the patience to pursue obscure subjects and thought that those who did must have something wrong with them.

"Well…" He began evenly. "This is better than other birthdays I've had." He was recalling a birthday he'd shared with a minor bout of radiation poisoning.

"I agree!" she responded, suddenly excited. Feluric glared at her. "It's my birthday too," she said, now suddenly shy, "I'm turning 16," now managing a smile.

"Oh." Feluric was surprised and taken aback. He had the ridiculous sensation that the situation was out of his control. Moments later he added, "Happy birthday…"

"Gabriel."

"Happy birthday, Gabriel." He held out 'Bible'. "I got you a book."

Feluric was surprised to learn that Gabriel was the daughter of the Monastery community's leader. Her main duties seemed to be to spread devotion to the old religion among the wastelanders asking for succour. She was even permitted to hand out a few of the precious printed Bibles to particularly difficult subjects that might be worth converting (Feluric felt somewhat cheated upon hearing this). As it turns out, Feluric had achieved a reputation for his tenacity in dragging his parents through the wasteland to the Monastery (the reason for his rather sumptuous lodgings during his recovery), then recovering with record speed. As such, he was immediately assigned to work, and quickly gained a reputation for being one of the strongest, most productive workers, but the only one who stubbornly refused to accept the teachings of the Maker. He was routinely sent to study and discuss the subject with Gabriel. He eventually found that it was easier simply to read the passages she asked him to study rather than argue constantly about it, and gradually, he began to recognize the religion and its morals as the backbone of the strong community, and he gained some respect for it, despite his continued refusal to actually take part in the religion and its beliefs.

Feluric's parents didn't recover fully until six or seven months after his birthday. He had gone to visit them, and found that his father was barely willing to speak to him; they hardly exchanged more than a few sentences for the entire duration of their stay at the Monastery. Feluric tried initiating conversation with him once, and was greeted with a grunt. I paid for your recovery, Feluric thought. That was the end of their interaction. His mother was more polite, but felt just as distant. She was an avid convert to Bible, and rather than treat him as a son, she treated him as a member of the Monastery community. He only visited them three times while they were recovering. He'd already been disowned to the Monastery. He was alright with that – he felt more comfortable here than he ever had wandering from settlement to shit stained settlement, and he was sure they'd accept him as a permanent resident.

"Besides", he thought, "Gabriel is here."

He was at the gates to see his parents off, although they didn't speak. They said their farewells to some other residents of the infirmary instead. Feluric looked out across the wasteland and couldn't believe how distant and removed his old life felt, his old self, even. He was part of a community now. He almost missed the letter Gabriel passed to his mother just before they left. He pondered; maybe he hadn't paid for their entire stay. His mother had asked him to accompany them on their travels to "spread the holy word of the Maker". Feluric wondered if this could mean they were contributing to a vague notion that was forming in his mind, which he could only express as "Monastery power" out in the surrounding Wasteland.

A tiny thud as something collided with his chest. The small gathering had dispersed, and his parents had moved to the east and the south, and were now hidden by a ridge. Feluric reached down to stroke Gabriel's hair, then picked her up and swung her in the air. He felt free. Finally, somewhere he belonged.

"You really stayed!"

"Of course. I promised, remember? Forever"

"I know. I was still worried though – it was silly, Fell, I trust you. Just don't leave me."

Feluric laughed. "I promise, never. I could never love anyone else the way I do you. No matter what, I'll never leave. I don't care if your Maker himself reached down and tried to take you for his own, I could take him out." He laughed again, feeling the truth of his own words. "You bring greenery to the wasteland that is my heart. How's that?"

She avoided the question and poked at him with a finger. "He's your Maker too, you know. Plus that's a little blasphemous."

"Yeah. I know that, I do. It's true, though. Should I have myself committed?"

"No. You don't have to do that."

"I'll do whatever you need me to do, Gabriel."

"You don't have to do anything. I love you."

Feluric stayed silent. He was content with this. Then he remembered, "What was that letter about?"

"Your mother is a good disciple. She's delivering mail to the new governing centre being set up west of here. Daddy is worried about rumours of slavers running around and we could use the extra protection, even though the centre is still small. It's called the Bytown Confederation, I think. We're also hoping they might have information on all the ghouls coming through here recently." She added with a mischievous smile as they began walking, "I'm also not supposed to be telling you any of this. I could get in trouble."

All of this was news to Feluric, including the fact that he was being kept out of Monastery affairs, although he had noticed that the ghoul wing, separate from the general areas of the Monastery, seemed to be overflowing. Feluric didn't really care about ghouls – no different from his attitude regarding other humans, but their rasping voices irritated him, and he was uncomfortable with how much time Gabriel spent in their area. "Why can't we just stop taking them in? The ghouls, I mean."

Gabriel pushed away from him sharply, looking clearly upset, and practically shouted at him, "Those people need us more than…! Than you, Feluric!"

Feluric stood shocked, rooted in place. They'd never really fought, and he'd never seen her this way.

"They need guidance. They need me to help them reach the Maker, because He would still recognize them in their new form, and they could realize a new existence, beyond wandering the wasteland, cast away from human settlements. They need to be reminded that the Maker has not abandoned them, that they are still the people they always were, equivalent to any regular human in the Maker's eyes!"

"Right…"

"And… um…" she began uncertainly.

Feluric was silent, in awe and admiration of her previous conviction, waiting for her to continue.

"Daddy says they should hear the word. I think he said they were a sleeping giant or something..." She trailed off, looking at him, uncertainty clear on her face, her eyes glinting faintly with fear.

Feluric wasn't totally sure what had just happened, but he did his best to soothe her. "Don't worry, I'll come with you next time you go, and we can reach more of them that way. For that matter, if your dad wants them so much, why doesn't he send one of their own to spread the word?"

Gabriel looked at Feluric with such fear contorting her features that he felt a chill and panic began to rise in his own stomach, but before he could react to it, Gabriel clutched at his arm fiercely, burying her face against him and clinging with all her might. "Don't leave me Fell. Promise"

"I promise." He put his arms around her. He wasn't sure of what, but he was a little afraid.

In the ensuing months she had him make one more promise, after a day in the ghoul wing, as they sat together in the empty pews of the chapter room. She asked him to promise that he would never stop helping the wastelanders who came to the Monastery in search of sanctuary.

"They have no way to defend themselves from the world out there. They can't fight back against the slavers or the raiders; they have no one to help them but us."

He swore to protect and help them.

Feluric did his best to reassure Gabriel, but over time, she became more and more distraught. One evening she came to him, crying, mumbling something about her hair. Feluric hadn't been able to see evidence of anything, and told her it didn't matter - hair grew back, and he'd always love her anyway.

Feluric worked hard in service to the Monastery over the years, and discovered that he did, in fact, have a long way to go as far as becoming more than an initiate to the community was concerned. The persons of authority he often worked under respected and valued him, but many others were intimidated and unsure of him, thrown off by his sometimes abrasive attitude and while he did at least begin to attend religious gatherings, he could not convey true "faith". He was, in turn, frustrated when dealing with these people, and that made him yet more short-tempered and unwilling to part with less "monastic" methods of thought. Regardless, his responsibility grew, and he was asked to go on a multiple-day journey to pick up a large donation of medical supplies, the only kind of supplies Monastery often had trouble with. He had traveled in the area with his parents, before he came to the Monastery, and so was well suited for the task. He was also, unofficially, being sent to check in on the donor, in case their loyalty to the holy word might be fading. Times had become more uncertain, with inconsistency coming from the Confederation, an increasing slaver presence, and general instability in the area. Gabriel didn't want him to go, their birthdays were coming up; she was turning 18 and insisted very anxiously that he be there. Feluric assured her that he'd simply make the journey in record time, and be back before the big day. She still didn't want him to go. But beyond that, Feluric was dying to see the state of the world outside the Monastery again, as well as to observe and fully understand the Monastery's presence out in the Wasteland.

He got back just after noon, on the day of his birthday. He went immediately to the Pial residential area of the Monastery, where Gabriel and her family slept. Gabriel would have been granted her own room – a rare commodity - on the morning of her birthday. Feluric rushed there, hoping she was around, wanting to let her know right away that he was back.

He knocked on the door and called to her. He heard someone moving inside and the door opened a crack. He waited a few moments and then pushed it open, pondering his next move as he saw the room in darkness. It was difficult to make anything out.

"Gabriel?" He called, stepping inside the room.

"F-Feluric..." rasped a voice from behind the open door. Feluric glanced over, trying to see around the door. Suddenly arms with melted skin, attached to a body with nose-less face lunged out at him, connecting with his chest. Feluric swore and shoved the figure down and away from him, backing out of the room again.

There was a ghoul on its hands and knees in the light spilling from the doorway, wavering slightly. Feluric thought it was a female. He had trouble telling the men and women apart, sometimes.

"Shit," he said, shaking off his surprise. "Sorry," he offered in an un-apologetic tone. He noticed she was shaking a little, and making sounds he associated vaguely with crying. He supposed it was different without a nose.

The ghoul shifted and sat on the ground, still making noises and not looking up. Feluric decided he should probably help her up and go find out where Gabriel's new room really was as soon as he could. The moment he took a step towards the ghoul, her head snapped up so quickly he stopped and stood still again right away. She must have been watching my feet, he thought. She stared at him, her milky, filmed eyes focused directly on his face, her melted features unreadable to Feluric. No tears. Ghouls must not have tears, he thought. For that matter, why would a ghoul be in the Pial area? He belatedly realized she was wearing one of Gabriel's dresses.

"Gabriel," he ventured, his voice hesitant and somewhat faint. He swallowed.

"You said forever..." she rasped softly, looking down again.

Feluric stood silently, staring at her, trying to associate the ghoul in front of him with the girl he had said goodbye to just a few days before. The closest he could come was the dress, and her general body size.

Ghoul-Gabriel stood up. "I understand," she said gently, backing away and laying her hand on the edge of the door. Feluric started, and began to will his feet forward, but then the door was closed softly in his face.

"Gabriel..." he said again, quietly. Nothing happened. He wasn't sure if she could hear him. He decided he had to go deliver his report – the others would have finished unloading the supplies long since, but he had to deliver the status report in person. Maybe it wasn't actually her, he thought as he returned down the hallway.

The next day, Feluric was working from the moment he woke to the moment he collapsed into bed. Not an unusual day. He figured Gabriel would come and find him as soon as she. He woke in the morning and immediately headed to work again. He'd be done early in the afternoon, he knew, unless he was assigned some new responsibility, which was not rare. He grinned ferociously when he considered how much progress he had made moving up.

Feluric was done by noon, and headed to the cafetorum to finally eat a full meal. Joshua, Gabriel's brother, saw him and took him by the arm, pulling him out nourishment's way. Feluric shook him off near the exit.

"You should come to Gabriel's room." Joshua told him. Feluric said nothing.

Feluric stood near the body the mothers had taken down and laid on the floor for rites of final passage. He looked up at the metal wire strung from the ceiling in a noose, the only Maker-sanctioned method of suicide. He quickly looked back down again.

"Hey princess..." he mumbled under his breath.

Joshua gave him an odd look. Apparently he'd been close enough to hear.

Wow, Feluric thought, still looking down at her. Did I ever fuck it up this time.

Joshua moved to speak with one of the mothers, and Feluric went and sat against one of the walls, thinking. What must it have been like for her? For me, it was... well... But for her, it could only have been worse. And after the greeting I gave her... it couldn't possibly have been more difficult for her. I hadn't even considered her... self-centred. Selfish. Weak. Weakness was the best way to describe it, he thought. He hadn't even kept his promise, the one he'd been so eager to make. This happened because he wasn't strong enough in his convictions. Strength would have prevented this.

Feluric sat up straight and grunted. Joshua eyed him guardedly from across the room, then walked over, offering his hand to help him up. "Sorry," he said, "No note. Shall we go fetch some lunch?"

Feluric tugged on the little man's hand and nearly sent him sprawling. He always did that to Joshua, who was five years his senior, but very slight in comparison. Feluric gestured towards a chair, "She liked to hide stuff in the metal folds under the seat of that chair."

Joshua went over, feeling underneath the seat. He touched something, glancing in surprise and with a hint of suspicion over at Feluric. He pulled out a note and began to read:

"Father, Joshua, I'm sorry. F-"He stopped abruptly. "Sorry," He said, looking at Feluric. "It's... ah, somewhat personal. Family matter, I'm afraid I can't really disclose it without our father's permission."

Feluric figured he was being protected from his own name showing up in the note and suffering blame for it. He'd always thought Joshua was soft. "A confirmation of guilt?" He asked.

Joshua's response was to gawk at Feluric, terror sweeping over his features. He stiffened up and began to tremble. Feluric stood up and rubbed his forehead wearily. He suddenly felt far too tired for this.

"Look, it's – I'm fine. Just give me all the information next time." He walked out of the room as relief, confusion, and fear washed over Joshua's face, clearly fixing his features. Feluric wasn't watching, though.

Joshua sat down across from Feluric in the cafetorum a few hours later.

"Your report from a few days back..."

"Nothing. Everything is exactly the same as it was the last time I was there. The donor is still loyal. No signs of slavers anywhere, either. Other than the usual ones. The rumours are probably blown up."

"Correct. However, my father was – is convinced they weren't. He is concerned that we should take more precautions; indeed, he believes we need to prepare."

Feluric was silent.

"The moment he heard about Gabriel, he rushed out of bed to go and see her. Unfortunately, he didn't make it halfway before he collapsed and we brought him back to bed. He's in worse condition than ever, now. Andy tells me the sickness has gotten worse."

Feluric was silent.

"He's raving now. As a result, I have... some power."

"Great."

"The survivalists are forming up, now that the purists have been thrown into disarray. They seem to want to make a move, since their ghoul affairs have been set back."

Feluric glanced up at Joshua, who was gazing at him with a serious look on his face. This was an odd subject. The survivalists were a faction of the Monastery residents who prioritized survival of the community above all else, while the purists insisted on upholding the old ways of Bible before anything. Feluric didn't understand it, or why Joshua was bringing it up, and didn't care enough to bother thinking about it. He hesitated, though.

"Are you planning on no longer taking in the Wastelanders that come to the gates for help?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Good."

Things happened quickly over the next few weeks. Feluric's circle of influence and friends shrunk daily. Had it been Gabriel all this time? He wondered. He was no longer sure what had happened or what Gabriel had been up to, or what his part in it all had been. He resolved simply to remember his remaining oath. He owed her that much. Joshua met him at least once a week, with the latest news. Feluric wasn't altogether sure why. He thought perhaps he had replaced Gabriel as a confidante for Joshua. But why Feluric, of all people, especially since a large portion of the time, Joshua seemed almost scared of him.

"Well I'm afraid I don't really have any other options." Joshua retorted. "All we have to do is give them one of the patients or visitors as a slave, in order to avoid direct confrontation. By the time they come back for more, the Confederation should be on its feet and capable of protecting us. I'm not entirely sure they even know the slavers are here yet."

"Fuck the Confederation! It knows exactly what's going on! There's no way it could miss a huge group of slavers going around _farming_ settlements all over the place! They probably pointed the slavers in this direction just to avoid having to deal with them right away! Who knows, maybe they even cut a deal! Shit, even if they DID come to our rescue next time, it'd be too late. Who'll trust in a Maker who can't even protect his own Monastery? We'll lose influence. You have to remove the Confederation's blessing, force them to come and help you with the slavers when you tell the bastards NO, you can't have any of ours. You can't just give them someone!" Feluric was outraged. Joshua had proven ineffectual and indecisive as a Monastery leader, and as long as his father was sick, but not dead, there was no replacing him. Not that Feluric could have gone about that anyway, but these days he saw Joshua as nothing more than a quivering mass of Weakness, totally unable to protect or command even those directly under his influence.

Joshua just sighed, "I don't think I can risk that, Feluric." Feluric shoved him out of his chair, onto the ground. Joshua caught his breath and began to get back up. Feluric knocked him down again. Joshua edged away, turning his face away from Feluric, and tried to manoeuvre himself back onto his feet. Feluric pushed him back down again.

"Argh! No! Push back when you're pushed!" Feluric stood glowering down at Joshua, who had now apparently resigned himself to sitting on the floor. "You're supposed to lead these people."

"Feluric, about your Purists, and, I mean, I should think, what Gabriel... when she..." Joshua seemed to be trying to orient himself for a brand new tactic of his - appeasement. Feluric almost laughed.

"_My _purists? You've gotta be kidding me. And Gabriel was called up by your wonderful Maker, apparently." He decided to offer his hand as an invitation to get up. This was getting ridiculous.

Joshua stared up at him, his face dawning with incomprehension, then realization, and finally setting with a small, incredulous smile as a nervous laugh escaped his lips and he took Feluric's hand.

"It's late," he said. "I think I may have managed to come up with at least one solution tonight. It is time you got to sleep."

Feluric nodded, although he'd already presented the only real solution, and headed out the doorway. "And don't you call a gathering!" He called over his shoulder.

Feluric paced through the empty halls of the Monastery. He had neglected to join the gathering called that morning after the advance group of slavers had arrived, too disgusted with the proceedings to attend. The halls had been quiet. He'd expected to hear echoes of outrage and fear from the gathered crowd in the chapter room. Now he simply wondered what Joshua could be telling them. Maybe he should have gone.

"Feluric," called a voice from behind him. He turned. It was one of Joshua's associates. An advisor or something, Feluric thought.

"Follow me, please." The man disappeared around the nearest corner. Feluric followed, deep in thought.

He rounded the corner after he man. Two other men stepped out from either side of the corridor and each put a shackle on his wrist, connected by a heavy chain to the other. "Shit," Feluric thought. For some reason, images of Gabriel's face danced in front of his eyes – the day they met, later, her eyes closed and lips slightly parted in sleep.

Once he'd been escorted outside and brought to the slavers, one of them, his rifle carelessly strapped to his back, laughed loudly and jeered at him, "Hey! Where's that girl? I _liked _her!"

Feluric stared at the slaver and realized, as his vision began to dim and a black tunnel formed around the man and blocked out everything else, that he was one of the wastelander "visitors" Gabriel had dealt with about a month ago. The slavers must have realized he was about to lunge, but weren't quick enough to stop him.

They pulled him off the slaver too strongly. The chain of his manacles was wrapped around the slaver's head at just the right angle. The man's neck twisted, making an audible crack as they heaved Feluric off, and began beating him. Feluric noticed the slaver leader had un-holstered his rifle, but he wasn't pointing it at Feluric. The leader swung his rifle about and shot at someone in the direction of the Monastery, but Feluric couldn't see.

"One for one!" the leader yelled, with an odd accent, then strolled over to where Feluric was now on the ground, receiving kicks. "And if you ever try to escape, everyone here is dead." Feluric could see the dead man's twisted and empty head staring at a point just to his left. The leader glanced over at the corpse.

"Well, he'll be a good one for the See'um, at least, eh?"


	2. Ghoulification : Revolution

**Part 2 – Ghoulification : Revolution**

Feluric was tethered along with the other slaves, in a group of four, and carrying the sack he had been assigned, full of something heavy, which was considerably larger than those of the other slaves. Occasionally one of the slaves collapsed. If they couldn't be revived, they were detached from his or her fellows, and thrown into the back of the wagon with the resting guards, which was mostly empty since the slaves were carrying everything. When the collapsed slave came to, which they inevitably did – the slavers wanted to break their investments, not kill them – they were tied back with the others. The wagon was also pulled by slaves.

Everyone collapsed at least a few times. When Feluric returned to consciousness, he pretended to remain still for awhile, listening to the guards. Eventually he learned that the slavers were on the end of a constantly repeating year long circuit which had recently been extended slightly to include the Monastery and some settlements nearby it. Now they were headed "back" East to somewhere known as the ruins of Muntreal, or just Munt, and more specifically, the See'um that inhabited it.

The See'um was a huge pre-war building, one giant room, with a flat bottom, and sloping sides moving up diagonally towards the limit of the walls, lined with steps and benches. The roof had mostly caved in, and broken pieces of rock littered the floor of the arena at the bottom. There was, however, enough of it remaining to provide shade to those sitting and observing. The slavers used it as an attraction: Call'nSee'um, then buy 'em. Slaves faced off in the bottom of the pit, while observers sat on the slopes and bet on the fights or picked out items for sale. If you bid on and won a winner, well, you'd be getting quality for sure. If you couldn't afford the victor, at least the loser would probably be on sale. Not all of the entertainment was one-on-one slave matches. Sometimes there were teams, or a free for all, or a group of difficult-to-sell slaves would be set against giant radscorpions or feral ghouls or even a Deathclaw. Occasionally you might see a common Wastelander family trying to buy back a loved one. And, every once in awhile, if they were healthy enough or the women attractive enough, they'd simply be taken and sold off as slaves themselves, outside of the See'um. They never actually had enough caps to buy out their loved one.

Many of the slaves _wanted_ to be bought. It was better than being stuck with the slavers, and if they impressed the right people during the fights, they could get some pretty cushy bodyguard or soldier posts. Why, for that matter, would they run after they'd been sold? Run off into the wasteland and die of radiation poisoning, or dehydration. They'd at least be somewhere doing something if they were bought, rather than packed into a cell with twenty others.

Feluric wasn't sure why he hadn't been bought yet. He couldn't even eavesdrop because the slavers here all spoke some strange language. He won many of his matches, at least after the first few weeks; he had eventually learned to fight and defend himself with his fists. Perhaps he went unsold because he was a crowd favourite; not many could match his fury in the ring. He vented his frustration and rage at what had been done to him, stripped of his pride and enslaved, at the behest of those he'd trusted and even served, on his opponent. He didn't simply win the match; he destroyed his enemy, often crippling the other man, then overwhelming him all at once. Sometimes if they were matching him up against a clearly weaker opponent, they'd give his enemy a weapon – a knife, a hammer, some kind of dart gun. They'd never given Feluric a real weapon, maybe because of the first slaver he'd killed at the Monastery. They did give him brass knuckles for a hand once, and he'd almost killed the other man. He couldn't help it, the psycho, the chems they gave him before he went in, made him viciously strong and fast - he'd do things before he realized it. Then, afterwards, for what seemed like days, and perhaps was, he'd be writhing on the floor of his cell, clawing at his face as his eyes felt like they were melting out of their sockets. Occasionally, if his guards were bored, they'd open his cell door during these crippling spasms and tell him he was a free man, that if he could just get out the door, he'd find a mountain of caps and women and his own slaves waiting for him. If any of his cellmates tried to walk out, they'd be viciously beaten and told that the offer was only for "The Brawler". Even if Feluric could have walked out, he wouldn't have allowed himself. If he did, he'd be dooming the entire Monastery – but a voice at the back of his head always screamed, "They abandoned you! Abandon them to their deaths!" During one of these spasms, he thought he'd heard a guard say, "That one... for the Legion… to... expensive … pay that price." Feluric couldn't tell if it was in reference to himself, nor did he have any idea who the Legion was. If it was him, they'd waited an awfully long time; he couldn't tell how long, but it felt long. Months? Years? At least a year must have passed by now, Feluric thought, but he couldn't tell. He wasn't even sure how old he was anymore.

One night, he woke to find his cell mates gone, his cell empty, and the door wide open. He stared at it for a few moments before getting up and walking over to it, looking out into the Wasteland, a full moon overhead throwing deep shadows from the ridges and boulders. He looked to each side of the cell. No one. There was absolutely no one in sight anywhere. He didn't even attempt to stop himself, wanting to scream at them that it was their own choices that had made this. He began to run, straight, straight ahead out into the wasteland, even as he heard Gabriel's voice in his ears, unable to soothe him.

At least nine weeks now since Feluric had escaped. He'd managed to break the collar off fairly early on, in fact, he hadn't even done it on purpose. The spasms had gotten much worse when he'd first been out in the wasteland. He'd find some scraps, or manage to throttle some dog driven mad by radiation, and eat that, quenching his desperate thirst with any irradiated puddle he happened across, then be overcome by agony and pass out, seemingly for days, waking up with cramps from hunger and dying of thirst. Rather than just his eyes, his skin, his lungs, even his bones, felt like they were burning and charring. Recently though, they'd begun to get better. Rather than passing out from pain, he would simply pass out, and not for too long; at least not as long as before.

He had been fishing water out of the first large pool he had come across that had been clear enough for him to be sure there were no mirelurks hiding in the cloudy muck. Now he simply sat there, as he had been for the past hour, staring down at his new reflection and thinking, and remembering, and thinking. Gabriel came to mind a lot. He had expected to die along with everyone in the Monastery. He'd known it was wrong to run – he'd known from the start that it was wrong. So this is how he had ended up, this aberration. He should have died, not become this... Now he was relearning his own face as the reflection of a ghoul stared back at him.

A sound above him, on the ridge to his back. Instincts took over. Feluric glanced up, then immediately moved out of sight. He heard voices, someone was calling Mary. He wondered if it could be slavers, wait, that didn't matter. He was a ghoul now. Even if they were searching for him, which was very unlikely, they wouldn't recognize him. Most travelling groups would probably just assume he was Feral and shoot him on sight. He had to avoid being seen – fuck, the water. That clear water would lure anyone down the ridge. He had to move. Feluric began sneaking, badly. This wasn't going to work. A small hole in the side of the ridge, miraculous! Feluric slipped inside. He took a few steps, it turned into a slope. He fell, sliding down. An echoing sound as he landed in a much larger tunnel, subway tunnels! He passed out.

Feluric opened his eyes to see a ceiling, light casting shadows upon it. He decided he was sick of passing out and waking up, and especially of being unable to remember where he was.

"Oh, heh, fuck, you're open just like that. No problem. I knew ya might be worth carrying, mate."

Feluric bolted up, scrambling, trying to orient himself towards the voice.

"Woah, woah there. You didn't _look_ feral..." Feluric finally realized there was a ghoul on the other side of the tiny room. The walls, if you could call the metal sheets walls, went straight up to the sloping roof, clearly the inside roof of a subway tunnel. The ghoul was levelling a rifle at Feluric, gazing down the sight.

Feluric tried to speak. A gravelly growl came out. He hadn't spoken in a long time. He tried again, "Not feral!" words, but still very gravelly. His voice, even his tongue, felt foreign to him. The ghoul lowered his gun, but held onto it.

"Been out in the Wasteland for awhile, eh? Not so sophisticated anymore, are ya? Or were you ever? Either way, Suriel will change that." He gestured around himself, at the room. "This is Suriel's place. Best damn shack we got here in the ghoul slums. I'll be gone after she gets back, and you two can enjoy these luxurious surroundings without me." Feluric was trying to figure out what had happened to him.

"You... brought me here?" He asked slowly after sitting down again, trying getting used to his tongue and voice.

"Sure did. You're a heavy bastard." The ghoul finally relaxed and put his rifle on the crude stool beside him.

"Where is... here?"

"Like I said, this is Suriel's shack. It's in the ghoul slums of Glowlight town, which is actually more that way," he gestured, "outside of the subway tunnels. The smoothskins sure as hell don't like to keep us around much, but they need our help every once in awhile. Not sure why Suriel wanted you here, but you're lucky she did. I'm Rupple, by the way."

"I'm Feluric," he was beginning to master his voice again, "sir." A habit he'd picked up from the slavers.

Rupple let out a bark of coarse laughter, apparently short of words for the first time since Feluric's awakening. Feluric noticed he was missing about half his teeth. Feluric pawed at the air in between and below his eyes, just to make sure.

"I understand," said a softer voice, from the opening in the walls, usually covered by a cloth. Feluric wasn't really sure how he hadn't noticed her entrance.

"Suriel!" Rupple inclined his head demurely towards her, all trace of his former bravado gone. "He's in good condition, but jumpy. Any trouble, give me a shout."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." The female ghoul – Suriel - answered as Rupple left. She looked at Feluric. He stood up, glancing around, feeling as if something was expected of him.

"Thank you, Suriel," He was somewhat on his guard, "Rupple showed you a lot of respect. Oh," he remembered, "I'm Feluric. Is there... something you want my help with?"

Suriel looked straight into his eyes, then turned to the sink – Feluric wasn't sure if it was connected to anything - in one corner, speaking over her shoulder, "Glowlight is a safe little town, hidden away from the slavers here on the north-east side of the Munt ruins, and we enjoy merciful treatment from the people in town, who ask only that we support them. You should stay. It is better than wandering the Wasteland, and I am sure that you will make a very fine contribution."

Feluric said nothing.

"There is a reason for all of us to be here, as well as a return path."

"If you talk like that, no one will have any idea what you're trying to say."

"You are here, like this, trapped in this body, for a reason. However, one day, we may all walk the path back out of these tunnels, return to the settlement of the people above, as we once were."

Feluric was silent once again. After awhile, Suriel finished her work. She picked up a small mirror and walked over to Feluric, who raised his head. She looked straight at him again with that uncomfortable, milky, filmed eyed stare of a ghoul for many moments, but then smiled. She raised the mirror up to his eyes. His clear, unblemished, human eyes.

"You are our hope."

He was useless. Feluric had no role in the ghoul slums. There were hunters, crafters, water-finders. Suriel was the closest thing to a leader the slums had, although she took absolutely no active place in governing. She was simply the one everyone went to, and everyone paid their respects to. The ghoul slums lay about 300 metres from the outer boundaries Glowlight town, in the mouth of the nearby subway tunnels. A large portion of the tunnels were blocked off by a wide and deep radiation pit, filled with radioactive canisters and barrels, difficult even for ghouls to cross. The pit was not a perfect defence, however. Feral ghouls often made it across, as well as the occasional irradiated beast. There were also a myriad of side-tunnels and passages around the pit, and more opened up every day. Beasts, Ferals, and once even a haggard group of raiders came through those tunnels. The raiders hadn't been easy to deal with; they shot the ghouls on sight, however once they had been dealt with, their weapons added considerably to the precious stockpile of firearms and ammo that the slums possessed to keep itself safe. The greater human portion of the town generally controlled all weapons, leaving the ghouls to fend for themselves.

Most of the ghouls in the slums came from the town, cast-offs after ghoulification. The rest had come to the slums on their own, or else tried to go to the town, and were pointed in the direction of the slums by rifle barrels. All the "old town" ghouls believed that they would one day be redeemed and returned to humanity, after defending it for so long from the threats coming up out of the subway tunnels. Feluric's eyes only seemed to have an effect on the old towners so far as they were being practically worshipped by Suriel. It was because they were barely noticeable, Feluric realized. He wasn't even sure why his eyes hadn't changed. A side effect of the chems, perhaps. He did find that if he opened his eyes and stared at people in a disconcerting fashion, similar to what Sariel had repeatedly done to him upon his arrival, he could surprise and intimidate them into a stunned state of silence, as they saw in his eyes the human he had once been, contrasted with the leprous creature he now was.

Feluric did eventually discover a few useful duties, but he still considered himself largely useless, as he was lacking any particular focus or drive or place. He could "pop" a pistol that was jammed right back into working condition, which was important enough, when the slums only had 2 or 3 serviceable pistols at a time. He was also good at exploring, scouting, and scavenging the deeper subway tunnels – he could lock-pick a few doors - and fighting off anything that might threaten Glowlight.

That was what the humans of the settlement called on the ghouls for. Glowlight sat on the North-Eastern extreme of the ruins of Munt, just across the river, and as such was far removed from all the slavers and settlements around the southern or central portions. This, however, isolated it and made it easy prey for the raiders that constantly radiated out from the centre of the ruins. The people of Glowlight couldn't allow the raiders any leeway, or else they'd return with more, and while they had a permanent armed guard – as well as some houses with actual working plumbing – they often called upon the ghouls to come help them fight. Feluric, feeling he hadn't contributed enough, was the first to volunteer for every one of these Glowlight protection squads. The rest of the squad was often made up by old towners, presumably trying to redeem themselves, although Newcomers began to join in too, in order to scavenge weapons, caps, and other valuables from the dead raiders before the humans came to the scene. The humans wouldn't allow the ghouls to take anything they found on the raiders.

"Pay the guards of Glowlight respect, Feluric. They are guardians and protectors, and the Creator has blessed them. Treat His servants with reverence." Suriel had told him. Feluric called the guards "sir". It brought back violent feelings of rage from when he was a slave. He was still a slave, only in a slightly different situation. Just as Suriel said, he was a slave until he was released, after what he had done. He forced the sentiments down.

During one of these hunts, Feluric had been chasing one particular raider, laden with ammunitions, weaponry, and precious grenades across a last rocky stretch of wasteland; he was by far the fastest of the ghouls, and they were far away from the humans by now. He'd have no problem looting and fleeing. He mounted a ridge, right behind the raider, then launched himself down onto the man and smashed his face into the rocks. Feluric was the only fighter in Glowlight more effective without a firearm. He quickly began stripping the raider of everything valuable, planning to make a beeline for the ghoul slum, which desperately needed a replenished armoury.

"Drop it all."

Feluric swore to himself under his breath. How had he not heard the human coming? Since turning Ghoul he noticed almost everything that went on around him. He turned and looked. A Glowlight guard was aiming an assault rifle at him. Feluric thought he remembered her name. Shannon.

"I said drop it, zombie." Feluric stood still as the guard fired three warning rounds into the corpse of the slaver at his feet.

"You just wasted three bullets, _sir_." She took aim at his head.

"Watch yourself, smoothskin," snarled a rough voice. A ghoul had just topped the ridge behind the human now, and had an old bolt-action rifle pointed at her. Feluric hadn't heard him coming, either. He realized it was Carson, an impulsive and fiery Newcomer. The human was clearly surprised; she immediately began to spin, readying her assault rifle as she did. Feluric instantly leapt across the body of the raider and lunged at her, before she could even turn halfway around, crossing the distance between them in half of a second before smashing into her and throwing her down backwards, sliding to a stop in front of Carson, who put the barrel of his rifle against her forehead.

Feluric got up. The human was gasping for breath, "Fucking... zombies..."

Shit! Feluric thought. He didn't know how they were going to get out of this mess. They might already be dead. What were they gonna do with this guard? He quickly walked to the edge of the ridge to see if anyone else was in sight or heading towards them.

"Anyone coming?" asked Carson, his eyes fastened on the still winded human.

"None yet." Feluric heard a shot. He turned. The guard was dead.

"Raiders got her." Carson shrugged. Feluric stared.

A silent moment passed. Feluric walked up to Carson, put a hand on his rifle, gave him a hard look, pulled it out of his hands, then walked back to look past the ridge. Still no one. He looked back to the guard, and the corpse of the raider. "Damn... Alright, grab the raider's corpse and let's go. We were never here." Carson picked up the raider corpse and the dead guard's assault rifle, "And don't let anyone see that assault rifle, or we're fucked. They'll know where it came from." Still, Feluric thought, damn good weapon. It'll help people, save lives in the slum.

"C'mon, Fells. Bitch was ready to shoot you over a few 'nades…"

The most recent ghoul squad outing had resulted in an injury for Feluric. It was bleeding badly, but he'd seen the others recover from worse, and quickly. The others were leading him through the ghoul slums to the radiation pit in the back. This was where all the medical supplies were stored, although he'd never seen them before. He'd always been interrupted when he was going to inspect them. He wasn't optimistic.

They climbed down into the pit and Feluric felt the familiar warmth of radiation. The others began to lounge around. He lowered himself down gingerly, although he was beginning to feel better. He growled. "Where are those medical supplies?"

Silence. Then Carson spoke up, "Shit, I knew he fought like a Feral, but I didn't think he'd start to lose his mind like one."

Feluric gave Carson his stare, "I've been fucking _shot_. Supplies."

Carson held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry, chief. They're all around you," he gestured to the barrels, the pit, "you know, the radiation. It'll fix you up better than any stimpak."

Feluric realized he was feeling better. He looked down at his two wounds, he... it was crusting over in _real-time_. He could see the movement. He gawked.

Rupple roared with laughter, "Well shit, I guess fearless leader don't know everything, eh boys? Guess we're still useful for something!" He laughed again. Rupple was an old town ghoul, but he seemed to associate mainly with the newcomers.

Feluric actually smiled at him. Yet another unexpected benefit to being a ghoul. "I seem to remember you carrying my useless body halfway across all the subway tunnels in Munt, Rupple. Actually, I don't, because I was unconscious the whole time."

"You've more than paid me back for that, mate, saved my damn life..."

Over the years, Feluric revisited the pit many times even when not injured, fascinated by the ability to use radiation for medical purposes. He didn't come to any better understanding of the subject, but he did find that he could "store" the radiation inside his own body for a time, and if wounded in combat, would immediately begin to regenerate. Incredible, he thought...

"I know you expect great things from me, but... well, how long are you willing to wait, Suriel?" She looked over her shoulder at him. Feluric knew, by now, that this meant he was being stupid. Suriel often invited him over to discuss the troubles a newcomer was having after coming to the town, or to speak to him of the Creator, or to ask his help with something, or even just to talk. He knew why. It was the eyes. They proved his humanity. But what did that even mean? He wasn't sure what to do with them. Out of all the people in the ghoul slums, Feluric knew that Suriel was the wisest, most able giver of guidance.

"I first came to this ghoul-residence eight decades ago. My father was the founder of the town of Glowlight. I... became like this, invisible in the eyes of the Creator, nine decades ago. I was 23. At first I was allowed to remain in the town, protected by my father, but of course, I outlived him. I have outlived everyone. His successors were also merciful; however they could not bear to co-exist with a creature not known to the Creator, and so I was sent here, where two other ghouls were working out an existence. In time, this community has formed, of ghouls that have wandered in, but mostly outcasts from my father's town. We, as ghouls, are cast into purgatory. We are held back from the peace of death, unable to reproduce or to marry. We are nothing, we can make nothing. But you are a sign. You come, a return to humanity evident on your face, and as you come, you bring the greatest influx of newcomers we have ever achieved. We have received more than we have ever had in the time since you have come, and now, the newcomers may even begin to outnumber the ghouls who once lived under the Creator in Glowlight." She had been getting steadily closer to him as she spoke, and now she reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, tilting his head so she could look into his eyes. "Perhaps you will be the one, in years to come, to gather us all and lead us to salvation again, redeem us in the eyes of the Creator. You are the morning star, Venus, rising in the blue-black sky just before the sun, leading us into the light of the Creator."

Feluric couldn't speak. Moments passed. He began to consider this more. The newcomers, his people, did now outnumber the old town ghouls. But they would never go for this. They didn't believe that humanity was the epitome of their potential. But how many would really take the opportunity to return, if they could? He knew they were loyal, and would follow him, but his direction still wasn't clear.

"Feluric, there is a reason you became this way; you wandered from the Creator's path. You will repent in time, and redeem us all. Until then, we are in purgatory for eternity - undying. "

Redemption from ghoulishness into the humans they were meant to be. Repentance for what he'd done.

Feluric reached up with both hands and pulled Suriel's face to his.

Out in the gathering darkness of the wasteland, just apart from the mouth of the metro tunnels and sort of halfway in between Glowlight and the slums, Feluric was being talked down to by a human. Living as a ghoul in this settlement for four years, he'd mostly accepted his role and such treatment from the humans, but now he was actually beginning to feel faint, and was trying to stare hard at the ground at his feet.

"Your people need not fear the Maker, nor shun his people! In the West, we are a bastion to your kind, a Monastery of hope and unification! The people of this town are ignorant, and cruel. The Monastery does not abandon its own!"

_Four years_ under the heels of these humans... he had bent his knee and grovelled and been called zombie more times than he could count. Why?

"Even I, no more than a common Wastelander, was taken in by them and returned, not only to good health, but to the light of the Maker! Now I am a loyal disciple! Do not stay here, Ghoul! Salvation will only be found in the Monastery! Then you will never be abandoned by him!"

Feluric's vision went so dim that part of him thought he must be blacking out, but when he reflexively looked up he was much closer to the surprised man than he had been before, and getting closer. Then the Wastelander lay at his feet, unmoving. Feluric was still clenching his fists, hard. He wished the _disciple_ had lasted longer.

"Feluric." Suriel was watching from some distance away, but he very clearly heard her say his name in this quiet way. At the sound, his head swung up immediately and looked straight at her. She recoiled, then turned, and began running towards the human settlement. The guards had set up a fire on the outer boundaries of Glowlight, in between the slums and the city, for the sentries they kept there, supposedly to prevent reprisals from the ghouls, ones that never came.

"No!" Feluric screamed. She didn't stop. He stood still. He could already hear shouts from the town, he thought. Then he paced for a few moments, spun, and headed back towards the slums.

"Idiot, why would you even go near the place after a human's been killed by a ghoul..." He knew she would be fine, though. The humans seemed to acknowledge her, at least a little. It was him who had to worry. Suriel would probably try to defend him, but she wouldn't lie. He looked back at the fire. It seemed much larger than usual. A bonfire. He swore and began sprinting towards Glowlight.

He moved quickly, as he always did, but by the time he was about 200 metres from the fire, he could see the silhouettes of three guards throwing a bound figure into the now raging inferno. He charged ahead, faster, but feeling slower than he'd ever been.

The guards weren't guarding. Nothing had ever happened on this post, and none were paying attention. Until, out of the darkness, Feluric charged into one of them, sending the man flying back, into the edges of the fire, and presumably knocking his head on something, because he caught fire and didn't move. Feluric waded into the flames, ignoring the pain, and pulled her out. She came easily; the ropes must have been almost burned through. He had heaved her out of the fire and onto the ground before a shot rang past his head. A trembling guard was trying to aim a rifle at him. If it was any other time he'd have grinned. The newbie shift. Instead, he leapt forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the guard's hands. Then he swung it, in a wide arc. The butt end connected in between the guard's neck and collarbone with a crunch. The guard went down. The third one was already running away, towards the town, which seemed suspiciously empty from here. Feluric quickly turned and picked up what had been Suriel and began sprinting towards the slums. From the moment he'd picked it up, he knew he was holding a corpse.

As he passed through the slums, ghouls gathered. It seems some of them realized what – who, he was holding. He found the deepest part of the radiation pit and laid her down.

Again. Again!

He put his hand to his face, then realized it was charred. He watched the wounds heal up. He looked at her. What am I doing...

Feluric picked her up again and wandered back into the slums.

There was a "slum centre", a sort of open square in the middle of the slums with nothing in it. That's where he stopped. A crowd had gathered there. He put her down on the ground.

There were murmurs. For some reason he was being left alone in the middle of a ring of ghouls, next to her corpse.

"They're going to come find us. We have to hide, or beg their forgiveness." Someone said. Suddenly Feluric came to life again. He felt as if he was still inside the bonfire.

"No!" He roared. "Things can NEVER go back to the way they were before! This is war now! Whose side are you on?" His burning gaze swept the crowd around him, searing the faces of all it touched, igniting rage and revolution. "It's time to strike back! We are slaves no more! Now, we fight or we die, and I will not die as a slave! We'll destroy them for what they've done to us! Look! Look at her! Look at the face of human Mercy!"

The crowd transformed. A ripple of fury spread through it. Some of the ghouls, newcomers, began howling for revenge, began to raise the call to arms. "Protect yourselves!"

"Open the Armoury! Grab the guns, the smoothskins are coming!"

"Slaves no more!"

"Wait, no! Fight the humans, are you insane?" It was an old town ghoul, and, ironically enough, he was holding the very assault rifle taken from the dead guard by Carson. Feluric knew the old town ghoul fairly well. He went to the man and took the assault rifle, looked around, then tossed it to Carson. Then he turned back to the old towner.

"Look at Suriel. If you don't want to fight, you'd better run. From all of us – humans or otherwise."

He stood in the square, still standing there with Suriel's body beside him, when the humans charged in looking for him. He was waiting, alone and unarmed. They were yelling questions at him. He said nothing. There were eight of them, including the guard captain, all armed with high-powered assault rifles or shotguns. The best Glowlight had to offer.

The humans moved up towards him, three hanging back closer to the edge of the square, two from the group that was headed towards him branching off to move around the square. They actually look half-disciplined this time, Feluric thought. The moment the group of three with the guard captain reached him, the three near the entrance were shot at, and all turned towards the source, then were mowed down from behind -the idiots were grouped together - by Carson. The two patrolling the square became involved in a firefight. Feluric darted forward, punching the most distracted guard, a shotgun toting woman, in the stomach. Then he pulled a grenade pin at her waist and jumped back.

The combat went on for a few more minutes. Eight more guns for the ghouls. Feluric glanced down at himself. He was amazed that he had made it out alive, much less unscathed. Apparently they hadn't thought he was any threat. A vicious smile spread across his face. "Now for Glowlight!" He roared. The mob had been moving before he'd even begun speaking. He charged with them, pulling out ahead, leading them.

Some of the houses were on fire. There was no more organized resistance. Somehow, the ghouls now had the upper hand in firepower. There was essentially no guard. Most of the humans were fleeing. Glowlight had a real square; Feluric had never seen it before. A small crowd of ghouls had gathered around a human that had been dragged out of his house. They were stoning him now. It was the Major, the human in charge of the town. Feluric moved into the crowd to watch. He was ready to hurt the man a little more personally, but had been getting a bit tired. A jeering yell rang out.

"Not Major anymore, smoothskin! Just another homeless Wastelander now!" Feluric suddenly felt as if he'd been immersed in a pool of icy water. He looked at the former Major, who was half naked. The man had somehow contrived to be fat. He looked pathetic. Feluric was chilled, but his insides still burned. He couldn't forget that oath. He forced his way through the crowd, and grabbed the human, pulling him up by his hair. He turned to the watching mob.

"Platform! Make a platform! Throw anything together, tables, chairs, refrigerators, build a platform!"

Feluric threw the human down on the uneven platform that had been constructed in the past few minutes, then turned and spoke to the gathering of ghouls, much larger than the stoning group earlier, in the flickering light of burning houses.

"This man was once titled Major of this town! He is now put on trial for crimes against all Ghouls of Glowlight!" The crowd roared. He turned back to the former Major.

"Human! You stand accused of mistreating the Ghouls of Glowlight for decades! Killing our people and throwing us into the slums and at raiders to defend you, without giving us anything in return! How do you plead?" The fat man just sat there, bruised and trembling, his mouth working without sound. Feluric turned back to the crowd.

"He pleads guilty!" The crowd roared again. There were a number of calls for execution. Feluric finally turned back to the human. "How do you defend yourself?"

This time the man could speak, albeit quietly, "T-the Creator..." Feluric turned to the crowd again.

"He cannot defend himself!" The crowed stormed and surged. "I strip you of your rank as Major! You, and all human residents of the town, are exiled! Cast out to wander the wastes as all the ghouls you have thrown out have done!" "Clear a path!" Feluric yelled to the crowd. They parted. He kicked the fat human off the makeshift stage into the opening. The man began to crawl, and then run.

"See how they flee, brethren! See how the humans run before us!" Feluric held his arms up high.

"Brethren! We are ghouls! This is the way we were meant to be! This is what we were always meant to be! We have taken back Glowlight, and Justice has been done!" the mass of ghouls roared their approval, beginning a chant.

"Major, Major, Major, Major, Major"

Years later, a small group of ghouls came to the town, saying they were humans who had once lived there, led by the former Major. They were told to see Feluric in the Major's house, who accepted them back into the community, on the condition that they abandon and exile the former Major as all other Glowlight residents had done.

Feluric took up the vacant role and position of Major of the town and along with that took up the Major's house, which was luxurious by any standards, not simply the ones of the ghoul population. Feluric hadn't wanted it, but the people had actually insisted. There was a full wardrobe of pre-war finery, which, surprisingly, fit him well. He often wore the suits, labelled "Armani" on the inside. He supposed it fit his new occupation. He also donned a hat. It all served to set him apart - he was their leader.

Some of the old town Ghouls insisted that all of them should still live in the slums; that they never should have rebelled and that now any who stayed in the town were doomed. While those few remained in the dark of the tunnels, the large majority of the ghouls stayed in Glowlight town.

Feluric received visitors now, as Major, much like the way Suriel had once met everyone who entered the slums. Most of that was pointless. Humans he barely even listened to. One of the ghouls, though, was special

"I am from the Kabec Ghoul Alliance." He had begun. "We are an Alliance of ghoul-based towns who fight against the oppression levelled against us, as well as the slavers trying to destroy us." He held out a strange sort of glove. "We've brought you a gift."

Feluric took it and tried it on, "What's this supposed to be?" Buying time as he thought about this Alliance.

"It's called a Powerfist. A strange weapon, unconventional, and largely useless, but Carson said it would be perfect for you. It's pre-war technology."

"Carson?"

"He's one of our agents. We sent him here after we learned of this isolated settlement with an active ghoul population. He tells us, though, that he was mostly ineffective, and nothing would have been accomplished without you. You do seem to give off quite the feeling of confidence, and you're clearly a hero to these ghouls."

"Did he tell you that I was easy to compliment?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Right. Your Alliance. How big is it? What do you want with our modest settlement of 56?"


	3. Two Lives

Part 3 – Two Lives

"Feluric, how long have you been Major of this particular settlement?"

"More than three decades, Til, you know that. You bastards monitor the hell out of us."

"Because we're astonished with what you've done and what you've become. You're a hero not simply to these ghouls, but many all throughout the Munt area. You're the Alliance's most famous agent. Those eyes of yours alone inspire upheaval. The people love you, but they're tired of instability. They want to live their lives without all this conflict."

"I'm not just going to get up and leave. Whatever the situation, these people need me to unify and lead them."

"Unify? These people have been living this way for 30 years, Feluric. They are Glowlight, whoever their Major is, and they certainly don't need to be lead anywhere. You still hold a lot of support, and are certainly popular among the people, but they're ready for a change of state, especially one that won't threaten their survival as much. The Alliance towns have agreed on a temporary placeholder leader until these people can choose one of their own. Or keep the placeholder, if they like her.

"Great. So you're brute forcing me out of my position and leaving a figurehead puppet for the Alliance, then sending me out of the way where I can't do any harm."

Til pressed on earnestly, "Look, Feluric, you can resist this if you want, I mean, you could break away from the entire Alliance if you wanted. The people of Glowlight would follow you, even other members of the Alliance might break off in favour of you; I know you've made allies. You could cause a civil war among the Alliance if you wanted, but then we could all get wiped out by the Slavers or the Coalition the humans have set up. Probably you first. It's not the sort of thing that Glowlight needs, and it won't protect your people or make them happy." Feluric was silent for a long time.

Then he sighed. "Shit. Fine. You've got me. Refresh me on the details."

"There's a government out West. Well, they've always had governments popping up all over the place – apparently the area was the capital seat of power pre-war, but this one's moved in from the south, the Toronto area, and it's putting down roots. It's called the Commonwealth of Ontario. Apparently, quite a few years ago, there was some sort of religious revolution, or movement, or something – you know how much fun those are – in the area, and it had something to do with ghouls. We know that the previous government was wiped out, and apparently the place was pretty empty of governing forces and religious institutions until the Commonwealth showed up, years later. We haven't heard a gurgle out of the ghouls in the area since then. The Commonwealth is big, really big, way bigger than us, maybe it could wipe both us and the slavers out of here in one go if it wanted. Or maybe our information is off. We need to send an agent over there, check things out. A good agent - plus, you came from that area. And you need to get out of the spotlight here. You're great, but you're as much of a liability as anything else, with the slavers and the human coalition following your every step."

"I hate how you pour polite and flattering crap on everything you say to me, Til."

"Just think about it. If you establish a foothold over there, and we start heading into the area ourselves, or create an alliance with the Commonwealth, you'll be the one in the know. You'll be the one holding onto power over there. And we could wipe out all the slavers here, if we had the Commonwealth's help. The main issue would be holding onto our own power. We need more information, and we need to show the Commonwealth who we are, close up."

Feluric was silent.

"I guess I won't need the bandage mask for this one, huh…"

The bandage mask was a mask of bandages Feluric wrapped around his face, as well as a mouth-cover, ostensibly to protect against radiation. The bandages and mouth-cover hid his entire face, except for his eyes, and between that, his fancy hat and suit (in a world of poverty-stricken ghouls), his muffled voice, and his clear eyes, Feluric would often be accepted as human. A very strange human, but a human. This was how he got into human settlements. It was his job to go in, incognito, and rally the ghouls around him, stirring them into and anti-human frenzy, and lead a rebellion at the same moment that a Glowlight or other small Alliance force attacked and distracted the resident army or guard force. He could also fill up with radiation in the pit, for protection, right before he went in, and then could even use himself as a martyr figure, which was good because it allowed him more leverage to encourage avoiding total execution of the humans. If, maybe, they deserved to be spared. Feluric could even sabotage the enemy's equipment. He was good at all that, although it was a dangerous job, and was totally impossible these days, with how famous, or perhaps infamous, he'd become. He'd be found out by the humans, or even some of the ghouls, far too quickly.

Feluric closed his eyes. He was remembering one of the first covert missions he'd ever done with the bandage mask. He'd been in what passed for a bar, similar to the one he was in now, trying to gather information. He had also been failing abysmally. The smoothskins at least seemed to be buying his disguise completely. People didn't ask questions of large, wandering Wastelanders, he figured. Not unless they were equally large, although he hadn't had very much trouble in that area so far.

A young woman sidled up to him at the bar. He turned to her, expecting information, since he'd been fairly open about his questions and humans were always looking for more caps. She looked right back up at him.

"How 'bout a drink, big guy?" Feluric signalled the bartender. She received a glass of something, and sipped at it. "Oooh, high class stuff! So, what's a guy like you doing here in town? Shouldn't you be out hunting mutants or something? Or maybe up in some pre-war tower, issuing commands?" Feluric was at a loss for a moment, then he almost laughed as he realized what was going on. Too long away from the smoothskins.

"Not many people seem to want to ask me that," he covered, as he looked the woman over. He judged her fairly attractive, with a few eye-catching tattoos. There would be eyes following her and probably watching her right now. His cover would be weakened if he simply did away with her, however if he kept her around, it would only strengthen his position – he might even be able to get some information from her after all.

"Pff, I can tell you have good and honest eyes, even if they are kind of immodest there. I know about these kinds of things. You're trustworthy. People are just scared 'cause you're all big and bandagey and you _are_ pretty mysterious." Feluric wondered just how much the woman had drunk.

"I am the mysterious stranger," he intoned. "I have come to save your town." She laughed.

"Oh good! See, I knew you were a great guy. 'Speshully after all this stuff with the ghouls." That certainly caught Feluric's ear-holes. He noticed the woman had finished her drink, and called the bartender for another. Then he gestured towards a more private table, more like two chairs and a tall stool, in the back, and before he could even speak:

"Oh! Okay then, Mr. Sexy Mysterious Stranger. Off we go!" and she toddled off in the direction he'd indicated, but went to a different table. Feluric supposed it would work just the same. He paid the bartender and strolled over with his own drink. Only his second, so he decided it was fine, although he couldn't remember drinking since being human.

"I'm Mary," she told him as he sat down. Feluric hesitated for a moment. Aldebaran?

"Michael." He returned.

"Aha! So you're a big commander, then!"

"Damn. Caught."

As time passed, Feluric got some good information on the situation and the ghouls in the town. This had clearly been a profitable decision in terms of blending in and gathering information. He was, in fact, actually enjoying himself in the company of the odd and drunk, but very friendly Mary. He felt much more comfortable than he ever had in these human towns, blending in so well there seemed to be no difference between the next human and himself –hell, he thought, I can barely tell the difference. It was an odd feeling, and brought back memories he didn't realize he still had. Mary always seemed to be leaning against his chest now, and he had an arm around her shoulders. I should be more careful, Feluric thought. This could turn out badly.

As if he'd just jinxed it, Mary reached up and pulled his mouth-cover and part of the surrounding bandages away as she moved closer to him, pulling herself against him, coming always closer. Then she stopped, and stared. She began to move back slightly, and draw in breath. Quickly, to stifle her, Feluric bent down and kissed her, almost biting at her. He felt as though he was getting drunk off it, shit, he thought, she had drunk a lot. Her eyes opened wide, then slowly slid closed, and she went limp. Feluric let her down to the table gently, with her arms cushioning her head, and adjusted his mask and bandages before glancing around. No one had noticed. Well, perhaps they had, but he supposed it had seemed fairly normal. The bartender caught his eye and grinned, making a drinking gesture – Feluric had learned that Mary had some connection to the woman behind the counter. He looked down at Mary. It was the radiation, he realized. The radiation he had absorbed in the pit before he came to the settlement. Ghoul women adored it... to them, it gave off a warm, comfortable feeling. To humans it might even be fatal. He had poisoned the girl, but it was clear that it was only minor. She'd recover soon, probably after she slept off her drink. He calmed down, and the ambience of the bar returned to his senses. He observed once more. Loud voices, drinking. Nothing had changed. Why had he done it? He hadn't known what would happen. This could have turned out even worse, but he'd been lucky. He glanced down at her again, passed out from the radiation that sustained him. What would happen when she woke up? There was a reasonable chance that she would remember what happened and especially what he had been hiding. He glanced around again – no one was even looking in his direction. Feluric was free to do as he pleased. He paused, and then sighed. All the more reason to use his newfound information to move plans along more quickly.

Feluric got up and headed for the door. He looked back. The lone, unconscious human woman was already attracting looks. But no, the bartender had noticed earlier when he had looked at her, anyway, and the two knew each other somehow. Still, Feluric hesitated. Human affairs had nothing to do with him, he thought. There's no sense in me doing anything. He had left, then.

The mission had gone well, but thoughts of this had always returned to nag him.

Feluric stumbled out of his reverie. He'd heard someone speak; it sounded like something a slaver would say.

"Yeah, I just caught myself a brand new prize. Gonna bring in a lot." He looked over his shoulder. His companions, the ex-slaver as well as the ex-raider, were sitting down with some other piece of trash. His companion bought the man a drink. The man refused. Feluric got up and walked over.

"My _friend_ here bought you a drink, buddy." He glared down at the man's puny moustache.

"Hey now... Hold on there, spunky. I was just leaving. Early start tomorrow morning, ya know?" The man patted Feluric on the shoulder and walked away. The ghoul behind the bar was laughing quietly. Feluric glanced at him; the man tended to irritated him with his seemingly perpetual indifference, but this was new. Feluric decided to make a few inquiries about this moustached man.


End file.
